Counter
by Scarper
Summary: Collection of one-shots surrounding the Claude/Sebastian relationship, because their rivalry needs more recognition as the hottest thing around. Some yaoi, some not. Various ratings. Enjoy.
1. Hypothetical

A/N: Because I'm a short one-shot addict, and this pairing needs more rough love and attention. Respective warnings and ratings will be posted with each one-shot, so the collection will be rated M overall. Enjoy!

This one was inspired by a discussion on forums about spider!Claude in Sebastian's shower. X3

1.] Hypothetical

Rating: T

**x x x**

It wasn't so much that he enjoyed the sight, or that it was a pleasant habit - he merely liked the wall of the shower. A conveniently horizontal surface to rest on in a usually untouched area of the house, the shower wall was a bit of an ideal spot to him. Of course, the occasional and utterly unexpected appearance of his fellow demon in the shower had nothing to do with his preference for the wall, nor the fact that he had gotten used to resting at the very top of the shower, in an inconspicuous corner, tucked neatly into the shadow where he wouldn't appear to the occupant of the shower.

On the occasions that Sebastian did appear, though, his thoughts often took a slightly hypothetical turn. Watching the slender fingers that slid the shower door open, wrapping lightly around the shower head to adjust it was enough to make anyone long to have those fingers running over their own body. If he were to switch forms then, and step up behind the other demon, his gaze heavily following the streams of water that spilled over perfected collarbones and down the slopes of shoulders, he might have rested his own hand against the shower wall and leaned against it for a moment, waiting.

Of course, he wouldn't have waited long, because Sebastian would turn to take down the shampoo, and be forced to acknowledge his presence, lowering the dark eyelids that had already gathered a faint layer of moisture from the spray of water, minuscule drops clinging to the ends of each lash and stepping close to Claude. Their skin might brush briefly as Sebastian closed his hand around the bottle, and the softest of smirks would leave his lips.

As Sebastian turned back to lift his face into the water, Claude might have stepped away from the wall and come up behind him, taking Sebastian's hips into his palms, pulling their bodies together lightly and enjoying the quiet sounds their damp skin made, sliding together and apart. He would have admired the way the other demon's biceps curved as his hands worked through that raven hair, and the way the water made each strand curl as he rinsed it.

Claude might have buried his lips in the wet hair, taking a couple in his teeth gently, a soft sigh falling into the dark mess as Sebastian's soap-slicked hands ran down his thighs in a thoughtful manner, as though considering the power he would have had at that moment. Vaguely, Claude wondered when this hypothetical version of Sebastian had started contributing to his musings of its own will, but it wouldn't matter by then, because Sebastian would have turned and buried shampoo-covered hands into his own hair, and he would be pressed against the shower wall, those slender, perfect fingers working tiny circles across his scalp.

At that point, there wouldn't be anything to do but wrap his arms around that perfect slender back and let the other demon wash his hair, their faces impossibly close, every breath of steam-filled air they took seeming less effective, but that wouldn't matter either because with Sebastian's tongue in his mouth he had no desire to make room for air. He might have fought with him briefly as to whose tongue controlled the kiss and might have received a light bite to the tip, punishment for intruding on the shower.

He would have minded parting if it weren't for the intoxicating sight of the water washing over the rest of Sebastian's pale skin, watching as the shower head would be tilted so the spray now caught them both, running his hands daringly down the rest of the demon's body to aid the disappearance of soap. They would have stayed like that, mapping each other's bodies with their hands until all the hot water was gone, and then it would be over, and Sebastian would be shaking the excess dampness from his hair and opening the shower door.

The wink Sebastian threw towards the invisible corner of the wall as the cold air entered the shower was nearly enough to send Claude sliding from his hiding place. But then, he reflected as he watched the shower door close behind his fellow demon, that didn't matter as well because the whole thing was entirely hypothetical.


	2. Eat You Up  Part 1

_A/N: Take a moment with me and shave, say... 15 years off Sebastian and Claude, slap a hefty dose of childhood innocence on them both, and throw them into this. (Please note that that does not, however, leave them completely innocent. They're Claude and Sebastian.) They do however make a ridiculously cute mental image as kids, and I've been working on the Between Breaths doujin adaptation all week, so guess what's on my mind? Not too short for a oneshot of mine.. Inspired by Little Red Riding Hood, oddly enough. Bear with me while I get this off my chest. XD AU, rated for language, packing tape bondage, a smattering of yaoi, toasters, etc._

2.] Eat You Up, Part I

Rating: T

x x x

If there was one rule you had to follow in the city in those days, it was to never step out your front door without a pocket knife after nightfall. Keep the kids off the streets, the family indoors, and you wouldn't ever see a hint of the gang violence that dominated the back alleyways. Stay away from the wolves, don't let them catch you with your hands up. Just another way to live. Words that were repeated multiple times from friend to friend, parent to child, class to class. Sebastian Michaelis had heard it all, but there was a part of his twelve-year-old ears that didn't quite believe a word of it.

"... So be careful when you leave the house, okay? I know you're not an idiot, Sebastian, but I worry about you, I honestly do... I think I heard shots outside the house last night, even the streets aren't safe lately, and you can't just go wandering every which way whenever you want just because it's the weekend -" She paused for breath, taking advantage of the moment to press the toaster button down as sharply as possible with a chipped red nail, "so won't you be careful, Sebby, darling?"

"Sure, mum," was the half-hearted reply. They were silent for the five whole ticks on the wildly inaccurate kitchen clock, staring at the orange juice between them as though waiting for it to give a discourse on the meaning of life. The toaster chose to break the ice by dying, loudly, with a snap, a mushroom cloud of smoke, and a bright flash of light at the socket.

"SHIT." His mother turned frantically for her pitcher of water. Sebastian beat her to it, and doused the counter and the smoking appliance soundly. He prefered to be the one holding the pitcher because when she did it he often found himself the recipient of more than half of the spray of water. The clock continued, oblivious to the dire circumstances that had just been narrowly avoided. _Tick, tick, tick_. "We'll have to buy another toaster, sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I really am-"

"Sure, mum," murmured Sebastian. He dumped the empty pitcher into the sink, next to a soggy Chinese takeout carton and an empty wine bottle, carefully picking out the chopsticks to wash and reuse. He liked chopsticks. They were simple, but refined. Anything even slightly refined usually broke in the run-down two-bedroom apartment his mother still referred to as their studio, but the chopstick collection in the top-right kitchen drawer had somehow survived the majority of Sebastian's childhood. It was too bad the same couldn't be said of much else in his life.

_Tick. Tick, tick. _"We-ell," she began, standing up and brushing the nonexistent crumbs from the nonexistent toast they'd had for their cozy family breakfast from her lap as she reached for a cigarette, "Have a good day, won't you, baby?"

The only response was the resounding thud as the apartment door closed behind her son.

**x x x**

It was the cat that caught his eye. He paused in the alley entrance, equally tempted to run from the dark underworld everyone claimed lurked just two feet from the sidewalk as he was tempted to walk to the crate and take that silky lump of beauty into his hands, run his fingers over those ears and finger a paw. He was inches away from doing so when the cat lost patience, and leapt from the crate, skipping along the wall of the building and down the alleyway. Entirely frustrated at being cheated of at least one pat, Sebastian gave chase, worn tennis shoes spinning over the equally worn cobble ground.

The cat threw him a look that might have been entirely contemptuous or just mildly bored, and slid through a half-open back door into what looked like the rear of a store. Sebastian punched the wall crossly, leaning against the cold metal of the doorjamb to peek in after the cat. It was a storeroom, boxes filling the shelves and old porcelain figurines piling up on a table in the far corner. _Cat in a china shop,_ he thought with considerable amusement. Slipping around the door, he looked around the small, half-lit room. It wasn't so bad, considering it was in so-called wolf territory. No offensive graffiti or bloodstains, no broken glass in sight.

It was just as Sebastian was contemplating making the storeroom his new hideout that a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, a surprisingly small hand clamping firmly over his mouth. "Don't scream," whispered his captor, tugging the red hood of Sebastian's sweatshirt back so he could get a better hold on his throat. It might've been called ironic, or perhaps just pointless that the first thing Sebastian noticed was how young the whisper sounded. As he found his face pressed to the carpet and a knee in the small of his back, he noticed that his assassilant was about the same size as he was, but more solid, and decidedly male.

Pressing the knee more firmly into his back, his captor proceeded to bind his wrists together with a length of packing tape. It occured to Sebastian some time later that the knee had been removed, and he was lying facedown on the dusty carpet. When he did manage to raise his head a fraction and shake off the fuzziness remaining from the chokehold, he found himself face to face with a boy about the same age as himself, with unruly dark brown hair and a pair of intense golden eyes framed by glasses that seemed faintly scratched.

"Gosh," whispered the boy, staring at Sebastian as though he were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, "You really _are _stupid.. Didn't anyone tell you to stay away from our alleys?"

Sebastian coughed. The carpet was dustier than he'd thought. It kind of reminded him of his own apartment, the rough texture and the dry smell of plywood tickling his nose, the way it did when he lay down in the middle of the living room on his back and watched the sun rise. He hadn't done that in a long time, though, not since he'd found his mother collapsed in the kitchen one early morning with an empty wine bottle and mascara tearstains on her face. It was easier if he pretended to have slept late and run out the door as quickly as possible in the morning, while truthfully he'd lain awake the entire night and dressed more than an hour early for school.

A light slap landed on his cheek. "Pay attention," chided his captor. "I almost never get a chance to play with anyone, and the least you can do after wandering in here is play along." He leaned close to Sebastian, examining the dull shadows under his eyes. "Or are you planning to fall asleep on me?"

His cheek was starting to hurt from pressing against the coarse fiber. "I didn't really mean to wander in here, I was just following the cat." The hoarseness of his voice made him wince at himself.

"Yeah?" The boy sat back on his heels, looking vaguely disappointed. "You are stupid, aren't you?"

Sebastian didn't bother to respond to the taunt. Instead he rubbed his wrists together against the packing tape. The entire situation was getting somewhat uncomfortable. "Let me go."

"No." With a small laugh, the boy rested his chin in his palm and examined Sebastian. "I just caught you, why would I let you go so soon?" He flicked a small pocketknife from his jacket, twirling the closed blade between his fingers, intense golden eyes never leaving his captive. "No, I'm going to eat you up, just like a wolf in a fairytale."

"Life's not a fairytale."

"I like to think it's the fairytale that's life."

"Yeah?" Sebastian's prideful gaze met the boy's. "Then tell me where the happy ending is."

His captor shifted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, frowning contemplatively. "It's only a happy ending to one or two of the characters, that's life. Some people are just born to be stepped on and eaten up, you know?"

A glare was the only response. Laughing again, the boy bent over his captive, sliding the pocketknife open and pressing it against the perfect, pale skin of his throat. "Which is why I'll eat you up," he whispered, and on a brief whim, he pressed his lips against Sebastian's. It wasn't something entirely unplanned, he'd been thinking it over during the last five minutes since catching him. He just hadn't intended to go through with it.

_Beat. _The pulse beneath the pocket knife quickened. With a gentle slide of the blade, a tiny bead of crimson appeared against that beautifully exposed neck, apparently mocking the faded red cotton of Sebastian's sweatshirt. The boy wiped it away with a thumb, eyeing the flushed face below him with a suddenly impassive expression. "But not now."

Sebastian blinked, clearly bewildered by the mixed treatment he was receiving. "What?"

"It's no fun to eat you up like this," he explained, returning his knee to the small of Sebastian's back as he moved his pocketknife to cut the packing tape from his wrists. "It'll be much better if you come to me and beg to be eaten, won't it?"

"I certainly wouldn't call that fun," said Sebastian scornfully. "Why don't you learn to play like a normal kid, instead of terrorizing people like the scum the rest of your back alley friends are? You're not even a real wolf, 'cause I'd have been murdered already if you were. I bet you're afraid, aren't you?"

The thumb swept from his neck to his face, curling lightly over his forehead. "If I'm the one who's afraid here, why are you the one with a cold sweat?" His small, half-smirk was more irritating than any comment he could have made, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.

"You _kissed_ me," said Sebastian suddenly, accusingly, as though he'd just realized it, and for the first time since his wrists had been freed he toyed with the thought of punching the boy and running for it. Despite the hazy quality his sleep deprived world had, he would remember later that he had not made the slightest attempt at self defense.

His captor made no response to that, simply flashing another intense yellow stare at Sebastian's neck. His gaze was focused now, though, not upon the faintly red skin he had left a scratch on, but on the glint of silver under the sweatshirt. His hand dropped to catch the thin chain, tugging the necklace out with the practiced grace of a little pickpocket and examining it. Sebastian struggled then, all to late as the boy pulled the rest of the chain out, gazing at the blue ring hanging there.

"Got a girlfriend or something?" questioned the boy, fingering the ring with a strange expression, holding Sebastian down with his other hand.

"What if I do?" Sebastian demanded, but his face gave him away, and he ducked his head. "I just like the color, that's all."

"It's _beautiful_." The tone of the boy's voice made Sebastian raise his head; for it was spoken with something beyond awe and close to reverance. He held the small silver ring as though it were a house of cards, staring as though convinced it would fall apart if he let go.

"It's just a ring," he muttered, ignoring the fact that he had once stared at the bright blue stone the same way himself, admiring it on his mother's finger, back when everything had been normal. Back when she had smiled without the forced, hysteric happiness. It sounded like a lie, even to him. He knew very well it wasn't just a ring. It hadn't been just a ring to him the night he'd rescued it from where it was buried, deep underneath his mother's bed, and now, watching the faint light play over the stone as the other boy held it, he knew it wasn't just a ring.

His breath caught in his throat as the boy unclasped the chain, letting the tiny silver links coil into his palm around the ring. "Give it back-"

"I told you I'd eat you up later. Now you'll have to come back, won't you?" The smile was back, as disconcerting as the serious stares. "Besides, I have your kiss, too."

Sebastian grit his teeth silently, weighing his chances in a fight against the boy. The kid had a knife, and he was running on a few hours of sleep. Things felt faintly fuzzy still, but anywhere was better than his apartment, in the stifling emptiness between the two bedrooms, and the irritation was beginning to wake him up. "Fine, but I'll punch your face in when I do come back," he threatened.

The small snicker was unbearable. "I look forward to it," the boy whispered, hauling Sebastian up by his sweatshirt. The ring had since disappeared into one the boy's jean pockets, and he let go of Sebastian with the imitated air of a gentleman.

With a cross jerk of his shoulder to straighten the rumpled fabric, he turned a glare on the boy. "I don't even know your name. How am I supposed to hunt you down again if I don't even know you, idiot?"

"The name's Claude." The boy held out his left hand to shake, earning another scornful look from Sebastian. As their hands first touched, Sebastian forgot to look angry for a minute. Just a minute. The soft palm against his was suprisingly warm, but more than that, it was _soft_. He couldn't imagine it belonging to a wolf. Wouldn't someone as rough as he acted have hands to match it, instead of hands that felt as though they hadn't ever known a callus? Finally, he remembered he hated Claude, and hissed, "I'm Sebastian, and don't you forget it."

"Get out." Claude grinned as he dropped Sebastian's faintly clammy hand, flicking his pocket knife open again. "Don't come back until you're ready to beg for your stupid ring, _Sebastian_." Almost as an afterthought, his expression growing unreadable again, he said "Also, I'm going to eat you up, so don't you forget that."

Spitting a choice word or two, Sebastian spun around, running past the silent cat that had sat observing, past the half open door and into the alley. His anger kept his legs moving for a block or two, sprinting blindly until he collapsed on the stone steps of an obtrusive office building, covering his mouth and nose with his hands to breathe. He was shaking so badly he could hardly sit still. His throat stung with wordless shouts that had died on his lips before they even left them.

He would never forget that day, and he would never forgive himself for how much it had mattered to him. Just like that, he had lost his ring, the most important thing in the world, and just like that, Sebastian Michaelis had lost his first kiss to a wolf.

And then, just like that, he stood up with a deep breath and walked home. He would sleep that night, better than he had slept in years.

**x x x**

It was months before he ended up at the back room of the china shop again, entirely by mistake. The crisp sound of rain beat over the brick walls of the buildings around him, soaking through his thin cotton t-shirt and plastering his hair to his head. He was out of breath, freezing cold, and desperate for somewhere dry to wait out the sudden downpour. And then, there it was, the door he would come to remember with a strange mixture of nostalgic fondness and bitter hatred.

He pulled on the knob briefly. It was locked, and icy to the touch. He slid down the cold metal of the door, resting his head against it. It was several moments before he realized the rain had stopped in a three foot circle around him, and several more before he realized a boy was standing over him with an umbrella, wearing the same glasses and worn fleece jacket he'd been wearing on the fateful afternoon, all those weeks ago. Claude.

"It's locked," said Sebastian crossly, pulling himself to his feet and facing his enemy under the umbrella.

"I know," remarked Claude in a conversational tone, sticking the handle of the umbrella in Sebastian's face. "Hold this."

"Huh?"

With a practiced wriggle, Claude shed his fleece, and wrapped it around Sebastian's dripping shoulders. "You're shivering," he explained unnecessarily.

Sebastian scowled, but didn't comment. By rights, it was the least Claude could do, he reasoned, gripping the fleece to tug it around his shoulders. He could smell Claude on the jacket. It wasn't a bad smell, just a familiar one, a smell he'd found on his own clothes the day they'd met. He'd nearly thrown away his red sweatshirt, half sure he could still smell the faint perfume of strange laundry detergent that was somehow oddly expensive smelling. It didn't fit with Claude's rough looks, but it that too had faded into the bitter fondness he habored along with those memories. He had kept the sweatshirt.

"I'll walk you home," Claude offered politely. The sugar in his tone was enough to make anyone in Sebastian's shoes cringe. Without batting an eye, Sebastian turned, neatly swinging the umbrella out of Claude's reach and side-stepping out into the middle of the alley, and, with the smallest of snickers, Claude followed him.

**x x x**

It was surreal, Sebastian decided, standing calmly outside his apartment door with a wolf. The doorknob was freezing against his fumbling hands, and not for the first time he almost became convinced the key was too large for the lock before it slid, with that _click, _and he was breathing the usual sigh of relief to push the door open. Claude just stared as he followed Sebastian over the threshold, taking in the threadbare carpet and chipped paint of the walls and door with something like dismay.

"You live _here?_"

"Yeah, bet it's a palace compared to what you wolves are used to." Sebastian leaned against the door to shut it, his wet hair clinging to his face uncomfortably. "You like Chinese food?"

"What?" Claude had turned away, looking into the cramped and nearly empty living room, a single sneaker scarcely leaving the tile of the entrance before Sebastian pounced.

"Don't you dare step on the carpet with mud on your stupid paws, wolf." His damp fingers dug into the thin white cotton of Claude's t-shirt, yanking him backwards. "I said, do you like Chinese food?"

Stumbling slightly, the boy righted himself, jerking free of Sebastian's hold. "Wolves can't be too picky, can they? I guess it'll do if I can't eat you yet." He blinked at the carpet, shaking humid strands of his bangs off his glasses. It was clearly stained already, thousands of half footprints at the edge, their outlines faded as though they'd been scrubbed at fruitlessly time and time again. Idlly, he wondered if they had been.

Sebastian had reappeared in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall with two white paper takeout cartons in one hand, two pairs of chopsticks in the other. He followed Claude's line of sight with a faintly tense expression, as though waiting for the carpet to be criticized. Claude raised his head, frowning, opening his mouth as though to question the living conditions of the old apartment, but closed it again and took a carton awkwardly from Sebastian.

He was sitting on the floor and picking at the cold rice in the carton when Sebastian came back a second time, in a dry clothing that was vaguely too big for him, the fabric of his shirt hanging a bit from his slight frame. Claude looked up, the chopsticks strange in his large hand.

"This is terrible," he said, glasses catching the faint light from the window. His expression was twisted interestingly, a strange mixture of amusement and disapproval. "It's so.. flavorless... you eat this stuff?" The look of defensiveness of Sebastian's face was a priceless thing to behold. He dropped down to the carpet next to Claude, opening his own carton. Their eyes met.

It was the work of a moment to let his chopsticks fall to the carpet and lean forward, clenching the front of Claude's shirt with a fist. He had the upper hand now, on his own turf, and took advantage by shoving the wolf onto his back on the rug, a forearm pinned to his throat, knees holding each arm down in a moment. "Have you got the ring with you?" Sebastian demanded, pressing his arm down a bit.

Claude seemed vaguely surprised, but played along, narrowing his eyes up at Sebastian."No, why would I risk losing it?"

Sebastian wasn't sure, for a moment, which he was more disappointed by - the fact that he was not about to get his ring back, or the fact that he now could not explain remaining in his current position. Just for a moment. The problem was easily solved with a snap decision, moving his lips down to slam them against Claude's, an awkward, half open-mouthed kiss, moving on pure instinct. He could taste faint spice and soy sauce on Claude's probing, exploring tongue. It was just another thing he wouldn't be able to explain later, and he knew it. It was just there, just like that, that longing to be experimental. A longing to throw caution to the wind and say something along the lines of _to hell with it all._

"You're right," whispered Sebastian, pulling back abruptly, moving to shove himself off Claude. "It is terrible."

And then, just like that, they were laughing to break the tension of the moment, laughing until they had to clutch each other to keep from collapsing, until tears ran down their faces. It was a strange friendship, over those years of his life. Looking back, he couldn't deny that it had been a friendship - he had needed it to be.

**x x x**

_I need to stop this here... I'll post the second part later, because it needs editing all over the place.. besides, it was getting WAY too long to have been written by me. XD Prepare for a plot twist, this won't end the way you think it will, ohoho~_


	3. They Call It Dancing

Haven't gotten a lot of feedback on this, so if you're one of the people who faved/alerted, critiques/flames/anything you have to throw at me would be lovely to help improve the collection!

This one actually isn't yaoi... I was just amused by the idea of them mocking people in general, and also another side to Sebastian's invitation to Claude to dance in season two. They feel more brotherly in this to me than anything, but you can see it in whatever light you like. xD Taking a brief break in between parts of _Eat You Up_, so enjoy this short one!

3.] They Call It Dancing

Rating: K

**x x x**

The garden wall was bathed in a shadow that the twinkling lights of the tea candles and reflections of light spilling from the glass windows of the house could not penetrate, covering the sprawling lawns and soft pink roses that spread over the wall. The shadow stirred ever so slightly as a second and more graceful shadow slipped onto the wall with a bird-like, princely air. The two demons were silent, drinking in the faint notes of a waltz they couldn't completely hear and watching the way the silk dresses moved in the light reflected from the crystals of a hundred chandeliers.

"Humans are so strange," whispered the first demon presently, wrapping the darkness more firmly around himself like a web. "There's no _point _in all their showyness, nothing to be caught by it, is there?"

There was a silence between the kin, a comfortable silence as they weighed the question. Presently, the second shadow slid from the wall in response, wrapping himself in a perfectly crafted mask that was all long, dark bangs and flawlessly pale skin, slipping easily into the role of a young aristocrat in an instant.

"It's not so strange." The strangely sultry, high pitched human voice was alien to them both, and they laughed like children at play, the first shadow sneaking close to feel each perfect immitation of a lock of hair. "After all, they're all just using each other, just like we'll use them, aren't they?"

"Yes," whispered the demon softly as he mimicked his fellow's masquerade, solidifying his flighty essence into equally majestic features, gold eyes snapping brightly at the other. They stood for a moment, watching the humans circle each other intricately until their curiousity grew unbearable.

The grass crunched strangely underfoot when the raven one stepped hesitantly, lifting his arms with the grace of a dance instructor, sliding into a waltz with many quick glances toward to far away windows to check his performance. The dewed grass beneath his feet scarcely dipped under the new weight of the demon and his imaginary lady, the pair moving with an elegance that put the sophistication at the top of the garden to shame.

_Crunch, crunch._

He stopped, looking back at the awkward half-slouch of his fellow with a laugh, arms dropping from the waist of the false lady. "It's no use, she's a dreadful dancer."

"For shame, and from the prestigious Invisible family," mocked the other, his yellow eyes narrowing with an unfamiliar mirth. They were sizing each other up, now, immediately alert to the possibility of competition, something clearly present among the flustered young males at the top of the garden who competed so diligently for the affections of the laughing girls - a game with a prize of a mate. They were demons, after all, and it was in their nature to adore a good game.

The raven one extended his hand, lips curving ever so slightly with the traces of a laugh, eyes never leaving his fellow's. "Perhaps you can hope to surpass her... shall we dance?"

**x x x**


End file.
